


Promises

by anamia



Category: Hadestown - Mitchell
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-04
Updated: 2018-08-04
Packaged: 2019-06-21 13:54:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15559167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anamia/pseuds/anamia
Summary: Eurydice wonders if Persephone’s mouth would taste like dirt or like flowers. Or would she, like Hades, taste of metal, cold and salty and unforgiving.





	Promises

That said, someone other than me should write the story of Eurydice and Persephone, after everything’s said and done, two women who’ve been let down by the men they love, orbiting each other with wary fascination. Persephone, jaded bitter goddess of springtime, and Eurydice, burned by love one too many times, two women brought to the underworld by the promises of the same man. And Persephone, she loves him, somewhere, deep down, a twisted, broken love that’s still somehow real. She won’t admit it, during those too short summers, those scant months outside with the sky and the sun and her mother, won’t let on even to herself that she misses the feeling of being adored, of being worshiped, no matter that she knows it’s all a cage. And here’s Eurydice, young and innocent and lovely, proof of her husband’s straying eyes, her every gesture a slap in Persephone’s face. She wants to hate this girl, with her ribs sticking out of her chest and her wide eyes, this girl with a mortal man wrapped around her fingers.

But Euridice’s man failed her, just like Persephone’s did, just like all men do, and when he did Eurydice’s face froze. When Orpheus succumbed to Hades’ whispers, just like all men do, just like Eurydice did, just like Persephone did, when her love failed to keep her safe, Eurydice bowed her head and locked her heart up again and set herself to work. When Persephone offers around her cup of sky, Eurydice turns away, because sometimes remembering hurts more than letting it all fade. But she watches Persephone out of the corner of her eye, when the Goddess’ attention is elsewhere. She sneaks glances when she should be working, traces Persephone’s curves with her eyes instead of counting pieces of coal, wonders if her eyes lose their sunlight as winter progresses. Persephone is cold and caustic and beautiful. She wears Hades’ golden bracelets like they mean nothing and cheats his workers out of all the coin they have left. Eurydice hates her and envies her and can’t look away. And Persephone, Persephone is used to being watched, used to being hated and envied and admired in the same breath. She’s used to girls lured into slavery by her husband looking to her as their enemy and their salvation, used to boys with stooped backs and parched lips cursing her for reminding them of what they lost and begging her to give them a taste of it. But Eurydice doesn’t ask anything, just watches and turns away whenever Persephone tries to catch her eye.

She asks Hades, one day when they’re not fighting, asks for a handmaiden. _Womanly chores_ , she says, when he asks why he should spare one of his precious workers on her. He offers her robots, crafted by his brother and powered by his machines, but Persephone digs in her heels. His machines are unnatural, she says, and she is, despite his best efforts to shape her into his reflection, still a Goddess of nature. She must have a handmaiden who was once flesh and blood, who danced under the moon and knows what it is to feel the sun on her skin. Only a human soul will be able to attend Persephone properly. Hades argues, fights, pleads, and then gives in, gives her exactly what she asked for and no more, just as he always does. He follows her request to the letter, finds among his girls one who danced under the moon for she had no roof with which to keep it out and who felt the sun burn her skin because she had no shade to keep it off. He offers Persephone Eurydice.

They look at each other, the Goddess longing for spring and the girl trying to forget it, and for a moment Eurydice has never felt so alive. The moment passes. Eurydice bows her head and Persephone leads her away, behind closed doors where anything can happen, teaches her to comb golden hair and fasten velvet dresses, teaches her to bottle moonlight and distill summer rain. And Eurydice watches and does as she’s told and wonders if Persephone’s mouth would taste like dirt or like flowers. Or would she, like Hades, taste of metal, cold and salty and unforgiving.

Persephone leaves for the spring and Eurydice stays behind, bound to the underworld by a contract and a doubting lover. She goes back to work, keeps her head down and doesn’t say a word, never admits to anyone that she’s counting the days. Hades tries to catch her eye, offer a knowing look or a cutting glare, but she looks away. She’s been hurt too many times by men trying to catch her eye, been swept off her feet by honeyed words and empty promises, been the collateral damage of men’s fickle hearts. Hades wanted her flesh and Orpheus wanted her heart and between them she’s got nothing left but her pride. She knows Hades watches her and she turns her back. When Persephone comes back, eyes full of sunshine and heart full of rage, Eurydice combs the dying flowers from her hair, helps her back into her jewels, and meets her gaze.

Persephone tastes like a thunderstorm.


End file.
